Unholy Union
by Alicorn White
Summary: SPOILERS! You have been warned. Morrigan and Alistair must complete the ritual that will save all of Ferelden this very night. And though Alistair consents, the simple dislike that he already feels for the witch quickly bubbles into hate. DISCONTINUED


**!!SPOILER ALERT!!**

MorriganxAlistair. Hate smut X3 because it's fuckin' delicious. No fluff or lovely images here people. Once you start reading you're past the point of no return. BioWare owns Dragon Age. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. I'm not responsible for sticky keyboards when you're done reading.

Also I haven't actually finished the game *shifty eyes* so if something seems funny about the timeline I'll fix it later X3

**Unholy Union**

He steeled himself, gritting his teeth together and clenching his fist. He did not want this. Time and again he had vowed that he would never give himself to a woman he did not love, a woman that wasn't his lovely Grey Maiden. He shoved a hand through his hair, his feet carrying him in irritated 'u's' around the four poster bed.

The bed. That was where this unholy and horrible deed was to be done. It was unfortunate that he liked living; it was unfortunate that Loghain could not be allowed to become a Grey Warden.. It was unfortunate that many things had transpired, and many other things did not. But it was too late for that. The decision had been made, he was to be crowned king when the Arch Demon fell, and his soon to be bastard child… to be sacrificed to the Old, corrupted god. The taste in his mouth was very bitter, and he physically felt ill. How could she have made this decision? Loghain ended up dead, Anora, her father's daughter was no longer in line for the throne and everyone would live--if they survived the last fight. It was ridiculously brilliant and miserable all at the same time.

Alistair would have no more time to mull over these thoughts however, as golden eyed Morrigan stepped through the bedroom door. The look on her face was soft and devoid of her usual disdain for him, almost caring, but Alistair knew better than to trust her. Then she spoke. "I… feel sorry for what is to happen here. I may be callous and unfeeling sometimes, but know that this is for the best and that once this is over, you will never see me again" It was worse than he had thought. Her? Feel bad about this? He could have spat in her face for all her words did good. He seethed in his hatred for her, for the Blight, for everything he had sacrificed.

"If only you had stayed with your witch mother in the wilds, heathen. None of this would be-"

"Saved? None of you would live to see another day? You would not get to marry our fearless leader and have the power to change the world your enemy had worked so hard to keep from you?" The flash of anger in her eyes was more familiar, it was better than having her look at him with kindness, better than having her voice soft with regret. He would take no understanding from her this night, no backwards compliments and words of advice.

"Let's get this over with."

With his long legs he strode towards her, closing the distance between them with little time. His face was dark, and in a single motion, he grabbed her wrist and flung her onto the bed, making sure her head and left shoulder connected with the bedpole that was nearest. The dull thud he heard was more than satisfying. The witch hissed in pain, but she did not object. She was no soft, green girl, and the ritual must take place this night.

Alistair moved himself over her, grudgingly taking his shirt and pants off, his eyes never leaving hers. He motioned for her to do the same with her attire, and she did so, leaving herself exposed to him. Grabbing her wrist once more, he moved her hand down to the apex of his thighs; she nodded grimly and set to work on him. There was no need for ceremony tonight. They only needed one thing. Deftly, she twisted them around, forcing the Grey Warden on his back. He struggled a little, resting himself on the headboard of the bed, uncomfortable with handing her the reins.

When she placed her lips over his member however, he hissed at the strange and foreign contact. Her lips were cold and unwelcome, he forced his hands to lay still at his sides however, closing his eyes and willing her to go away. Morrigan persisted however, using her hands now, moving them over his length in a slow rhythm. Despite himself, Alistair felt himself becoming hard, the blood rushing down to his…parts. For her! For this diseased witch! He choked down a sob of shame, bitterly telling himself that this was for Ferelden.

Once he was aroused, Morrigan spoke, "'Tis your last chance, Alist-"

"Get it over with!" he snarled, "This Grey Warden will fulfill his duty, no matter how disgusting it is."

She punched him. She did not hold back, swinging her fist back and bringing it forward with a force he did not expect from her scrawny arms. "It is not only you who wants to live through this, idiot!" In a slick, heady motion, she had sheathed herself around him, joined them together, and he felt like retching.

The Grey Warden made a grunting noise and flipped her on her back, placing him on top once again. Violently he thrust himself into her, burying himself to the hilt. Morrigan made no noises, and they sneered at each other with equal amounts of loathing, Alistair pulled her hands over her head, placing them one on top of the other so he could free one of his own. He seized her signature ponytail and tugged harshly, twisting her head to the side. He lowered his face to hers and growled in her ear. "If you don't keep your mouth shut, I'll do it for you."

"So now you have a backbone, Templar?" Morrigan sneered. "I did not know that your purity was sooo important to you. Perhaps we should end this so that everyone can die?"

And because there was nothing he could to with his hands, and his mouth was already there, he curled his lips back and bit her on the cheek-hard. "Akch! You Bastard! That was uncalled for and--" He took satisfaction in sinking his teeth into a neatly groomed eyebrow, watching as her skin slowly flushed a crimson red. He was barely paying any attention to what his or her hips were doing. He didn't want to. All of this was just wrong and his heart ached in shame and anguish. He wanted to get it done and over with as quickly as he could.

For moments that stretched on and on, he concentrated on his task, willing his body to stay hard long enough to finish it. Alistair's mind wandered to his fearless leader, wondering if things would truly be alright between them after. Neither of them had wanted any of the responsibility thrust upon them, and they had to complicate things by falling in love.. She had been his first, and he had wanted her to be his last. Loghain was dead now and Duncan had been avenged, but now everything was tainted, and the guilt and knowledge of it felt horrible.

---

Gasping for air, Alistair surfaced through the cold bath water. He thanked the Maker that the witch had left as soon as the deed was finished. He wrapped himself in a clean towel, his hands clammy and wrinkled, his body soaked from his two hour bath. He felt as if he had defiled himself, all that he was-his romantic ideals on love and sex and morals-was gone in that one night.

Alistair exited his bath and gave a sidelong glance at the mirror by his bed. He looked no different (save for the swollen black eye he now sported) but he knew that everything had changed. He saw the rumpled sheets on the floor that he had tossed aside when Morrigan left and furiously, the warrior picked them up, threw them in the hearth and lit them asunder.

He donned his armor, fastened his shield and sword and pulled open the door to the main hall. Elyssia Cousland fell into his arms, their armor clinking together with a hollow metallic sound. Apparently she had been leaning against his door for some time. She grinned weakly at him, her eyes apologetic and sad. He said no words to her, he avoided her eyes, only held her tight and smelled her hair, kissed her forehead and sighed with relief.

"We have a dragon to slay," he murmured into her ear.

Her voice shook as she whispered back. "Yes, we do don't we?"

* * *

I hated and loved writing this omg X3 Was this a little OOC for Alistair? I'm not so sure it's not because his attitude towards Morrigan is fairly clear and obviously if he's in love with the female PC, as he'd said to her, he wanted her to be the only woman for him. _**TELL ME YOUR OPINIONS! I must know them D8! **_

This is a ONESHOT; this means that: **NO I WILL NEER EVER, EVER, EVVVVEEERRRR **make a chapter two for this. So **DO NOT ASK**. I **hate it when people tell me to expand on oneshots. If you like, ask me to make a COMPANION piece, not a chapter two. **


End file.
